


On a snowy day

by Elle_Nahiara



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Nahiara/pseuds/Elle_Nahiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Les Misérables  Holiday Exchange.<br/>Enjolras and Grantaire meet in an airport after a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a snowy day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiniMangaFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMangaFan/gifts).



> I'm very sorry about this. I tried to write less amateurishly, but it just simply didn't work. I haven't written fanfics in a long time and I loss practice. Also, I don't thing I used the setting/prompt much to my advantage. Still, I hope there's something of interest here.

As a kid, Enjolras had always loved the snowy days, the way the streets filled with white, and everything seemed bright and new, if only for a brief moment. It was an ephemeral sort of beauty and that made it better. He’d just run out, admire the landscape and laugh, and play.

As he had grown into a more practical person, however, snow had grown to be annoying. School got closed, streets got obstructed and kids made too much noise, as once he had done, giggling gleefully under the snowflakes.

His views on snow had once again with the company of Les Amis. They were like kids. All of them, in the best of ways. Even logical Combeferre and hardworking Feuilly –who, by the way, made the most perfect and surprisingly solid snowballs, snowmen and other snowthings- would join in. They’d run around, playing, laughing when Bossuet slipped, Joly would tend to him, no matter how minimal the injury always was.  Bahorel would record the scene on his phone, and make fun of Marius, whose nose always got too red. And finally, when they were all shivering and tired, they’d go someone’s place, with Grantaire always disappearing along the way only to finally reappear with wine and chocolate to warm them up. They laughed, they drank, they (even Marius) joined in a progressively harmonized rendition of “Marius, the Red-Nosed Lawyer” (which remained being called like that even when Marius turned towards languages. “Red-Nosed Linguist”, they agreed, just sounded bad, which would have been okay, but said linguist complained). Those had been fantastic days, which had made Enjolras remember why he’d loved the snow.

But that was all over now, and days of heavy snow were back to being bothersome, even more that day. He was supposed to be on his way to New York, not waiting on the airport. Enjolras grumbled under his breath, deciding to stop just sitting around waiting, and stood up to go get coffee. Of course, the queue was extremely long. The blond sighed and stood in line, frowning a bit, prepared to wait for at least half an hour.

“Oh my god” he heard someone mutter behind him and he froze in place. It couldn’t be. “Enjolras?”

But it was. He pursed his lips, and slowly turned around to meet the eye of the man he knew already he would meet. He wanted to feel anger, but the other looked at him strangely, in a sort of awe that shocked him slightly.

“Grantaire” he replied, and the artist  smiled. It was only then that Enjolras realized how strange his former friend looked, how different. Grantaire had always been a bit uncaring about… well, about almost everything, but his appearance was one of those things. He basically always had bed hair, a tired look, and paint stains on his clothes.  Enjolras could still remember. Nonetheless, that was not the case that day. Although the hair still looked a bit wild, his face was fresh and his clothes were clean, as well as somewhat expensive looking. Enjolras was more than a little bit surprised. And annoyed. Maybe a bit envious or hurt by how much things seemed to have improved for him. He thought about leaving, but it would have been pretty much in vain and he would be coffee-less. Instead, he turned around and decided to ignore him.

There was a moment of silence, and the blond thought that maybe it was all over, but soon he heard “Come on, I know you didn’t want to meet me. I mean, that’s obvious. But we haven’t seen each other in what? Two years?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Grantaire was still smiling, and he suspected he had given the wrong information on purpose, hoping that Enjolras would correct him. He pursed his lips and didn’t say anything…. For about one minute “Two years and a half.”

“Ah, right. Of course” was the only reply he got, and there was a cocky air to that, which Enjolras found difficult to withstand. He continued in silence. Grantaire seemed to notice that he had no intention of saying anything else, so he continued the conversation “So where are you heading?”

Although he was annoyed, he decided that really, there was no problem answering that one. He wasn’t foolish enough to think if he was hostile, Grantaire would leave. Not anymore, at least. But maybe he’d get bored “New York.”

“So am I!” he replied. “A small gallery there bought one painting and they want me to be there. “How about you?”

 “Seminar” he answered dryly.

“Giving or taking it?”

Enjolras turned his head to him, narrowing his eyes. Why were they even talking? It made no sense to talk, all things considered. “Assisting someone who is giving it. And before you ask, it’s about environmental international laws. Is that all? Yes, that’s all.”

Behind him, Grantaire gave a small whistle “Those are some manners. I don’t think that’s all. As you said, it’s been two years and a half since Les Amis-“

He should have known he’d bring that up. He didn’t want to hear it. “Goodbye” Enjolras said through his teeth, as he left the queue. Coffee be damned. He didn’t bother looking behind to Grantaire, and went to the farthest away corner. It was a big room and, even if Grantaire looked for him, he probably wouldn’t be able to find him. So he glanced out the window, looking at the snow falling, and almost taking out a book he was reading. Still, he was afraid he’d finish it and then he’d have nothing to do when the flight actually started. He sighed.

“Something the matter?” Enjolras got startled, turning to see Grantaire, who was offering him a cup of coffee. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. You’re just easy to spot.” He offered the coffee again to a reluctant Enjolras. “Thought you’d like it. Caramel Macchiato with a shot of vanilla, right?”

Enjolras made a face, didn’t confirm that indeed that was still his usual order, but he took the coffee. “Thank you.”

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad.” Grantaire answered, taking a sit near Enjolras. Surprisingly, however, he said nothing, just drinking his own coffee. And Enjolras couldn’t really stop glancing at him, uncomfortable by his presence.

He sighed. It had probably been twenty minutes of silence, and he didn’t like the silence. It was too much like he was ignoring the problem and he wasn’t the kind of person to do that. No. He couldn’t keep acting as if Grantaire was not there. “So… what do you want?”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Oh, look, it seems someone acknowledges the fact I’m here” he commented, although he didn’t seem resentful. That was unusual. “Just thought we could talk. See if everything is alright with your life and all that. You went away, so I’m guessing it isn’t. That’s why I followed.”

“I’m perfectly alright, thank you” he said, looking away. Grantaire, out of the corner of Enjolras’ eye, looked incredulous. Still, he said nothing about it. “How about you?”

Grantaire seemed to think about it a long time, and it surprised Enjolras when he actually replied “I’ve been great. Cut down on the drinking, have had steady work” Enjolras almost felt happy at that. Almost. But it made no sense for him to be happy over it, over Grantaire. If anything, he should have been annoyed by it. Maybe the twinge of hurt should have grown. He bit the inside of his cheek, as Grantaire talked again “We’ve missed you?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Oh, really? Who has?”

“Les Amis” he said, and Enjolras scoffed. Which was strange. Normally, he would say something and Grantaire would scoff, not the other way around.

“Les Amis stopped existing about three years ago.”

Grantaire made a face “Maybe. Maybe they did. Or maybe” Enjolras made a face, knowing what would follow “It’s just you stopped being a part of them.”

The blond gritted his teeth, before glaring at Grantaire “Go away.” Grantaire knew nothing. He knew nothing about anything.

“Or am I wrong?”

“Yes. Now go” he replied, not wanting to scream at him in public. In fact his voice was very low.

Grantaire made a face, frowning “Now, those words seem familiar. Aren’t those the ones which were the last nails in the coffin?” Enjolras simply shook his head “You threw me out, I left. But I heard Combeferre before I did, telling you to calm down and-“

“Grantaire, stop.” Enjolras said, realizing he had thought this irritating attitude was part of being drunk. But he could tell the other was sober and it made him dizzy to think of that. It was a part of Grantaire, really, the way in which he could just re-open a healing wound, point exactly to what bothered him and make it almost hurt. But Enjolras was above hurting. “Just… stop.”

And Grantaire did. He didn’t leave, however, but at least he continued being quiet. Enjolras took deep breaths and slowly kept any thoughts about it off his mind. He had tried, during the years, to stop being so defensive, but he couldn’t. He could have nodded and accepted what he knew Grantaire would say. That it had just been him, and not the rest.

“It’s their fault too” he announced, and he was surprised by saying that last word. He supposed that was an improvement. Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “It’s not just my fault.”

“You left, Enjolras”

And Enjolras sighed. “Yes, I did. But left what? That wasn’t the group anymore. People were missing meetings, people were less willing to go to protests.”

“People grew up, Enjolras” Grantaire replied, sighing.

The blond closed his eye and breathed deeply. But that was one thing he could just ignore. “And is that supposed to excuse them?” Grantaire opened his mouth “No. Hear me out. It is one thing to grow out of some pastimes, grow out of some interests, even some beliefs. But that? It was not something you could simply throw away. We were fighting for a better world, for better people, for education. How can you grow out of that?”

Grantaire stayed silent for a while, and Enjolras was grateful, except not. Except he was completely desperate for an answer to know why his friends had stopped caring “We didn’t.”

Glaring at him, he had to fight the desire to just abandon. “Of course _you_ didn’t. You never believed, you never cared. But they did.”

“No” the artist shook his head “No, I didn’t. In fact, I thought about leaving for good after that fight. After all, what was I supposed to stay there for? But I had friends. So I stayed. And I’ve gone with them to some protests.”

A frown formed on Enjolras face “You’ve gone to protests?”

And Grantaire nodded. “We don’t organize them anymore. But we go there, we protest… we look for you. We’ve never seen you, until later, in the news.”

He had no idea what to say, so he said nothing, simply looking out the window at the goddamned snow that had caused that meeting. It seemed to have stopped.  Suddenly, Grantaire started humming, and through a rush of still fond, but painful memories, Enjolras could not resist asking: “Which version is that? The original, or Marius’?”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows a little “None you know. It’s a new one” he said, slowly beginning to grin. “Well, mostly. It’s called ‘Marius’, the cunning linguist’.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but a part of his mouth curled up in a smile “And he allowed you to sing that without, you know, dying of shame?”

Shrugging, the other answered “As I said, people grow up. It’s not even as if the song is explicit, in fact it’s mostly a list of the languages he’s learned. You know, just a bad pun at the beginning.”

He smiled slightly at that “Well, you are the master of those, aren’t you, _R_?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not the only one to blame. Also, Les Amis de l’ABC? You aren’t much better.” Grantaire replied, laughing a little, making Enjolras stare, which in turn made Grantaire open his eyes a little wider and stop laughing “Did I do something?”

“No.” he answered automatically “Well, no, you did. Nothing bad, though. It’s just I didn’t remember you laughing at just… something that wasn’t me.”

“Uh… what?” the other asked, about half a second later. “I never laughed at you” he answered, which made Enjolras grimace. “What? It’s true!”

“Grantaire, the whole reason I threw you out that day was because you wouldn’t stop interrupting, pointing out flaws that I was about to mention, being generally disrespectful and, yes, laughing. Why else would I throw you out?”

The artist didn’t even miss a beat “Simple. You hate me.” And immediately, Enjolras glared at him, making him feel exposed and stupid.

“I don’t… I- What?” Enjolras continued, apparently so disbelieving of what he was hearing he couldn’t even talk. “Look, that’s just… stupid.”

“Yeah, I generally am.”

Yet another glare. Enjolras made a face “I didn’t say you were stupid, did I? Just that what you thought was stupid.”

“Which is basically the same.”

“Which means that when you insulted my ideals, you insulted me too.”

“Yes, but…” Grantaire began, and then trailed off “Actually, you got me. I have nothing to say to that.”

“That’s a lie. There’s plenty to say. Like how I overdid it when defending myself, like how it would have been the mature thing to ignore you or to forbid you to come back.”

Grantaire considered that and nodded a little. “Not bad. So why didn’t you?”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him “Why didn’t I what?”

“Forbid me to come back.”

“I-“  Enjolras frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess I just wanted to believe you could change.” Grantaire laughed loudly at that. “What’s so funny?” He asked, defensively.

“I didn’t know I’d caused the bad boy effect in you.” Enjolras quirked an eyebrow at him, questioningly. “You know, the whole ‘he’s troubled, but I can change him’?”

A frown appeared on his face “I never claimed I thought that I, personally, could change you. I just thought, when you saw how things changed-“

“I’d want to change too?” Enjolras shrugged “Well, things haven’t changed.”

“You have, though.” Enjolras commented, and Grantaire didn’t say anything for a while again.

“You’re good at this. No wonder you are a lawyer. How about you? Have you changed?”

He thought about that? Had he? Yes, but not for the better, he believed. Although he was still enthusiastic about his cause, he was more generally bitter and lonely when it came to his personal life. “I like to think I remain the same in essence.”

“Is your essence necessarily stubborn and proud?”

The blond stared at him and then replied “No?” with clear doubt.

“Wow, what certainty.” Grantaire teased. “Look, put yourself to the test. Show up back at a meeting. They are not so political, mostly just hanging out, but you might enjoy them. Or change them. Just give me your number and I’ll tell you when the next meeting is taking place.”

Enjolras was immediately going to say no, when it was announced that their flight would begin taking people in fifteen minutes, and Enjolras wasn’t as relieved as he thought he’d be of getting away from Grantaire. “Will they take me back?” he asked, finally, as he offered his hand to receive the other’s cellphone, which he understood and did after a few seconds.

“They’ll be glad to”

Enjolras sighed and saved his number in Grantaire’s phone. “I get the feeling I’ll say something inappropriate. For example, is Bahorel’s mistress still the same?”

Grantaire stood up and shrugged “That’s a mystery. She’s still mainly a mystery. But if you want, we can just… get together before that. Not much has changed, but I can tell you what has.”

He doubted a little and then nodded. “I’d like that. Now, I have to go. The people from travel class are beginning to form in line, and I hate queues.” He finished his coffee, which thankfully was still warm “Let me throw your cup away for you.”

“Okay, then, Enjolras. See you” he said, passing him the cup.

Enjolras walked away, muttering a small, disbelieving ‘see you’, still a bit confused over what was happening. But despite everything, he had one specific feeling, as he got onto the plane: he might start liking snow again.


End file.
